


Asunder

by CariadWinter



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal penetration as an act of dominance, Asphyxiation, Bleeding due to rough sex, Blood As Lube, Bound/Restrained, Choking/Gagging, Dick too big, Dry Sex, FaceFucking, Forced Deepthroat, Humiliation, Jealousy, Large Cock, M/M, Madness, Object Insertion, Obsession, Patricide, Public Rape, Rape with Weapon, Self-Hatred, Sexual Torture, Shame, Unwilling Arousal, Victim left aroused
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-05-31 12:37:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15119567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CariadWinter/pseuds/CariadWinter
Summary: Stefan will have what he wants. Even if he has to burn the world down around them to get it.





	Asunder

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StormyDaze](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormyDaze/gifts).



“I warned you this would happen,” Stefan said softly; his gaze taking in the sight before them. 

Parts of the courtyard and lower village burned as the fighting spread. Bodies of knights, of those he’d called friend once, and all those loyal to the old king littered the ground. The attack had been swift. In the dead of night. Unexpected. Brother had turned against brother. Daughter against mother. Knight against knight. 

Stefan had recruited in secret. He’d gathered those loyal to him, built an army of his own, and had taken so much care to plan his moment.

“I told you that he would fall.”

The bound man beside him on the battlements glared at him; eyes steely, jaw tight. Stefan turned to him, gaze trailing down over Wesley's barely clothed form. His father’s most trusted knight had been sleeping when Stefan’s men had grabbed him. There’d been little fight. Wesley had been the biggest threat to his coup d'état and Stefan had wanted the knight taken alive.

He reached out, fingertips ghosting along Wesley's cheek before he cupped the man’s face and traced his thumb along the hard line of Wesley's mouth. So handsome and proud. Even in defeat, Wesley would not be cowed. Stefan loved that about him. He coveted him. Craved him. Wesley was a beast on the battlefield; no man or woman his equal. But he had also been his closest friend once. They’d grown together as boys. They’d fought together. Stefan had even thought, once, that they had loved each other. It had never been spoken, never been shared intimately between them, but Stefan had felt it. It had been real.

And then it had been gone.

The knight pulled his face back from the touch, eyes flashing angrily. “He was your father!” Wesley snarled; teeth bared, anger so heady that it was a near palpable thing in the air between them. It made Stefan hard. “He was your king!”

Stefan’s lips curled into a sinister grin as he stepped into the warmth of the other man’s body, his lips brushing along the soft shell of Wesley's ear. “He was weak,” he stated softly. “No longer capable of making the decisions this land needed him to make.”

Wesley turned his face to meet Stefan’s, their breaths mingling. “So you murdered him in his sleep like a coward?” he growled. “Turned on your own for the sake of power?”

All there was for the knight, all there had ever been, was duty. Duty to the throne. Duty to the people. There’d been no room in Wesley's life for more. It was why, at first, Stefan had suspected Wesley of pulling away from him. Or, perhaps, there simply hadn’t been room for Stefan. Wesley had loved Stefan’s father. He’d loved him as his king, yes, but lately, Stefan had suspected it to be more.

“Did you warm his bed, Wesley?” Stefan asked, afraid of the answer, but still, he needed to know. Their eyes met and it was an instant collision of unspoken emotions. “Did you open for him? Did he crawl inside of you like some gluttonous old pervert?”

Wesley turned his face away from him, eyes glaring out over the village below rather than continue to look at him. Stefan thought that answer enough. He grit his teeth, hands fisting at his sides. The bite of nails into skin tamed his rage enough for him to speak again.

“Did my mother know?” he asked; voice terrifyingly hollow even to his own ears. “Did he fuck you in front of her? Or were you his dirty little secret like all the rest?”

Wesley whipped his head around, hellfire and fury sparking in those too blue eyes, lips parted as though he were going to speak and Stefan wished he would. He wanted him to deny it. He needed the knight to snap and snarl and fight with him as they had grown so accustomed to doing lately. Wesley's mouth closed though, lips pressed firmly together, and he looked away again.

Stefan’s lips curled in a vicious snarl and he buried one hand into Wesley's hair, twisted his fingers in the blonde locks, and forced the other man to look at him.

“He died very much awake, Wesley,” Stefan growled, heart beating out a rapid, incensed staccato. “On his knees, by his own sword. I watched as the life drained from his eyes and had I the heart to do it, I would watch you die as well.”

Something flashed in Wesley's eyes. Regret perhaps? Shame? Stefan didn’t bother with trying to decipher it. He simply twisted his hand tighter in the other man’s hair and shoved until the knight was on his knees. With his free hand, Stefan tore at the ties of his trousers until they opened and he was able to free his already half-hard arousal. Wesley's eyes widened and Stefan sneered down at him.

“Your new king demands the same of you as the last,” Stefan informed him; paying no heed to the other knights who stood around them. All were loyal to him. All would either happily watch or turn a blind eye. None would help Wesley. None called the other knight friend.

He pressed the tip of his cock to Wesley's lips, the anticipation of that warm mouth almost overwhelming him. “Your felty, your service, your life if it must be given… and your body. All are mine.”

Wesley's lips pressed into a tight line, teeth grinding together in denial. He looked up at Stefan with a mixture of betrayal, shock, and rage. Stefan leaned down over him, fingers twisting tighter in his hair until he felt some of the strands being plucked out at the root. 

“I will have you,” he assured him. “Either here and now, or in the throne room for all the royal court to see. It is tradition, after all, for the court to bear witness to the king and his consort consummating their union.”

Stefan leaned in closer; close enough that their lips brushed again but he could still stare into the knight’s eyes. “I will fuck you and breed you until you are round with my heirs in your belly and then… I will move on to those you hold most dear. Your mother perhaps? Or Jonah? Or maybe... dear, sweet little Alyra?” Wesley reared in his grasp, growling, and Stefan laughed. “I bet little sister tastes as sweet as she looks.”

“You will not touch them!” Wesley snarled; struggling against his bonds. He was bound tightly, arms restrained behind his back and a dozen of Stefan’s loyal knights stood ready to protect if need be. Stefan was not worried.

“I will not touch them,” Stefan agreed and straightened again. “Any of them,” he promised. “As long as you submit.”

Wesley's jaw tightened, but Stefan pushed his hips forward until his now painfully hard sex brushed up against those perfectly pink lips. “And if you do not, you will watch me take one of them instead. I will claim one in your stead and they will take every punishment meant for you until there is nothing left but a whimpering pile of raw flesh and agony. Then I will pass them off to my men to do with as they wish while I move on to the next.”

A choked sob drew Wesley's gaze and Stefan watched as the knight’s eyes widened. The prince’s knights had produced four figures amidst their ranks; Wesley's mother and his three younger siblings. Jonah and Alyra were twins, both beautiful and painfully innocent. They were sixteen and only just coming into their own. Sylar was the youngest, barely in his sixth year of life and Stefan knew that the sun rose and set around the three children’s older brother. They adored Wesley. And they, in turn, were Wesley's weakness.

The four of them stood huddled together, Sylar in his mother’s arms, Jonah and Alyra wrapped around each other. Stefan held his hand out and that was enough instruction for two of his men to begin pulling the twins apart.

“No!” Wesley yelled and Stefan looked down to meet the man’s pleading gaze. Something had darkened in Wesley's eyes, but his lips parted and Stefan sighed as that perfect mouth closed around him. 

His hand in Wesley's hair loosened, fingers cradling the back of his head and he motioned for his men to stop. The wet heat made Stefan’s pulse jump. He exhaled breathily, eyes rolling as Wesley sucked him.

“Yes,” he gasped softly.

Wesley's head rose and sank around him, tongue cradling Stefan’s thick flesh. It was wonderful. Everything Stefan had ever wanted. Until he realized that Wesley put no more effort into it than that. It was stiff and perfunctory. Stefan growled, fingers twisting in Wesley's hair again before he thrust his hips forward and felt his cock slip past the barrier of Wesley's throat. The knight gagged around him, body tensing, and Stefan groaned at the feel of that tight passage convulsing around him.

His eyes rolled, hips jerking, and Stefan’s fingers twisted tighter. He grabbed the side of Wesley's head with his other hand to hold him in place. If that’s the way they were going to do this, then Stefan would oblige him. Wesley's eyes darted up to him as Stefan smiled down at him. Wesley's eyes widened and Stefan thrust his hips forward. 

The feel of it, the warm, wet, tight slide of that throat around him made Stefan’s heart flutter. He thrust again, Wesley's throat constricting tighter around him. The knight gagged. He choked and struggled and Stefan’s arousal skyrocketed. He held tighter to the other man’s head and pounded home, hips pistoning, his aching cock jackhammering into Wesley's throat.

Wesley's knees shifted against the stone beneath him. He tried to pull away, tried to struggle to the side or forward, but his body was held in place. He whimpered and groaned, gagged and choked and struggled harder for air. Drool and precome dribbled past his lips to smear across his skin. 

Stefan felt the pull of orgasm far too quickly and pulled back, cock slipping from Wesley's mouth. The man coughed and spat and tried to suck air into his ravaged lungs all at once. He was flushed pink, lips swollen, skin slick. Stefan groaned at the sight of him and gripped the base of his prick tightly to keep from spilling then and there.

He ran his fingers back through the knight’s hair, petting him, and Wesley turned angry eyes up at him. They were slightly unfocused, pupils dilated, and Stefan leaned down to lick the taste of himself from his lips. Wesley exhaled shakily.

It was sinful, the way Stefan felt about Wesley. He wanted to break him apart piece by piece until the man knew nothing, craved nothing, but him. He wondered if Wesley had felt that way about his father. Or the king about Wesley. 

“Please,” Wesley rasped; chest rising and falling heavily from his still labored breaths. “Please.”

Stefan arched a brow at him and straightened. His cockhead bumped against the knight's lips again and Wesley pulled away, lips denying him entrance. Stefan simply gripped the back of his head and pulled him back. He rolled his hips forward, sliding himself across the man’s mouth, his cheek, and jaw, his throat. He felt the bob of Wesley's throat as he swallowed, then gasped, startled, as that mouth swallowed him down again.

Stefan couldn’t recall when he’d closed his eyes, but he opened them to the sight of Wesley's lips wrapped around him, head bobbing with purpose. The knight’s eyes were closed, his brow furrowed, but he sucked him proper this time. His lips and tongue worked around him. It wasn’t perfect. Wesley couldn’t keep his teeth from grazing him and he gagged before even making it halfway down Stefan’s cock, but it was still heaven.

Wesley's knees spread wider as if he were grounding himself somehow, and the motion of his head quickened. He forced himself down; shuddered and gagged as Stefan slipped past the resistance at the back of his throat and then pulled away again. The prince moaned at the effort and felt the tendrils of orgasm creeping in upon him again. His fingers twisted in the knight’s hair, his own mouth hanging open, and he rocked forward.

Wesley's eyes shot up, wide and frightened, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he relaxed his jaw and seemed to brace himself as Stefan began to fuck his mouth in earnest again. Stefan grunted, lost to the sensation. It was everything. Hot and wet and wonderful and it sent the world spinning.

He fucked him faster; pounded into that perfect mouth and revealed at each panicked gag. Wesley's eyes rolled, dazed, tears leaking down his cheeks and Stefan cried out loud and startled as his end slammed harshly into him. He bent forward, hands cradling Wesley's head, as he came down the man’s throat. The knight’s throat worked, swallowing what it was offered, but still seed leaked from his mouth and dripped down his chin.

When he was finished, Stefan pulled away, careful not to catch himself on the man’s teeth. Wesley's body went heavy against him and as he moved further away, the knight slumped to the ground. For one moment, Stefan panicked, but Wesley wasn’t dead. He still drew breath. He was awake but weak.

“Clean him up and take him to my chambers,” Stefan ordered as he tucked himself away. “I’m not done with him yet.” 

He caught sight of Wesley's family, all of them weeping save for Alyra who glared at him with the promise of vengeance in her eyes. “And show our guests to their new chambers,” he purred. “Make sure they are comfortable and unharmed.”

The knights surrounding them nodded and Stefan gave one last look to Wesley on the ground before turning and heading back into the castle.

 

* * *

 

Wesley thought of fighting. He racked his brain for a way to break his bonds and escape, but he could do nothing while Stefan held his family. It was a nightmare. Everything he’d feared of coming true was happening and he felt utterly helpless to stop it.

Stefan’s men had left him bound and gagged in the king’s chambers. There was blood on the floor. It painted the stone in a sickening smear of red between the bed and the table at the center of the room. The sight of it made Wesley's heart ache. King Gregor had been like a father to him after his own had been killed in battle. He’d taken care of him, of his family. He’d loved the man. Not in the way Stefan had accused him of. Never that. But he had loved him.

Wesley's heart had never craved more than it already had. Marriage… love… it had never been written in the stars for him. He was a knight through and through, but because of that he’d sworn to never take another into his bed. He’d seen what his father’s death had done to his mother, to his younger siblings. It had destroyed them. It had destroyed him. There was no way he could subject someone to that kind of pain.

A tear slipped past his lashes and he wished that he could wipe it away. He didn’t want Stefan to see him this way. He didn’t want the other man to think he’d broken him. 

He glanced toward the door when he heard it creak open, but averted his gaze as Stefan strode into the room. They’d been friends once; as close as brothers and never, in all of Wesley's darkest nightmares, had he ever expected this. He knew of Stefan’s feelings for him and in the beginning, Wesley had simply tried to ignore them. But lingering glances had turned to lingering touches and words that begged things of him that Wesley hadn’t been able to give. Still couldn’t give. He cared for Stefan. Loved him even. Just, not in the way that other man wished of him.

“What have you done with my family?” Wesley demanded as soon as he heard the door shut and latch.

Stefan didn’t speak, only moved closer and Wesley's heart sped at the sound of each closing step. He looked up at him, watched as the prince’s fingers traced along the edge of the table. Stefan was staring at him. His eyes were hungry. Savage.

The natural blue of his eyes was darker; deeper. He looked like a man possessed and it made Wesley's pulse jump. Once upon a time, Stefan had been a good man. He’d wanted nothing but the best for his people. He’d fought for peace and prosperity. Now, the man who stood before him was a monster. His once handsome face twisted somehow; sinister. He was dark and cruel and capable of anything.

“What have you done with them, Stefan?” he asked again.

Stefan smiled and it sent a chill through Wesley's blood.

“They are safe. They have been shown to their new chambers here in the castle,” Stefan informed him, coming to a stop in front of Wesley's kneeling form. His fingers brushed Wesley's cheek, traced the line of his jaw before his hand cupped Wesley's chin to prevent him from looking away.

“How safe they remain depends upon you.”

Wesley blinked up at him. He could still taste the other man in his mouth and it made his stomach churn. What else could Stefan want from him? He’d done as the prince had demanded. He’d broken a piece of himself to please him and in turn, Wesley would forever hate himself because of it. And he’d hate Stefan. Whatever had been between them, whatever friendship had remained, it was gone now. Burned to ash and ruin by Stefan’s sick need to possess him.

“What do you want from me?” Wesley demanded through gritted teeth. 

Stefan’s fingers tightened against his skin. They dug into Wesley's jaw and when his hand felt like a vice against him, Stefan tugged and Wesley struggled to his feet, arms still bound at his back. Once Wesley was on his feet, Stefan backed him up the few steps it took to press him into the side of the table. Wesley's hands caught the edge of it, the wood cool beneath his touch, and it helped, surprisingly, to ground him. Stefan pressed in against him, their bodies aligned from knee to chest, and Wesley had to force himself not to cringe.

“You know what I want,” Stefan breathed against the line of Wesley's neck. “Was I not clear enough before? Do you still hold to some delusion that I will simply let you go?”

Stefan pulled back a little, just enough to look Wesley in the eyes, and the hunger there made Wesley shudder. “You’re mine, Wesley,” he stated just as softly. “You’ve always been mine. You just didn’t know it until now.”

Wesley shook his head because maybe he couldn’t fight this, but there was still a part of him that couldn’t allow Stefan to suffer under this delusion he was clearly harboring.

“I was never yours, Stefan,” he assured him. “And I never will be.”

The prince’s grin was cruel, curled tight with anger and malice. “Is that what you think?” Stefan purred and the desire in those dark blue eyes wasn’t just for pleasures of the flesh. He wanted to hurt Wesley. Wanted to punish him. 

“Do you think you can just walk away now?” Stefan’s head tilted slightly to the side and there was an odd, almost sadistically playful gleam in his gaze. He was amused. “Do you think I’d let you leave? That I’d let any of you live?”

Wesley's exhaled breath came shaky and while internally he didn’t know what he believed, he certainly wasn’t about to voice that doubt. “You wouldn’t kill me,” was Wesley's only reply.

Stefan’s grin widened. “Wouldn’t I?” he queried and drug his teeth slowly across the swell of his bottom lip.

Wesley shook his head. “No,” he said and licked his too dry lips. The hard line of Stefan’s cock was pressing into his hip and it took everything in him not to shake. “You need me too much to kill me,” he continued and prayed to the gods above that he was right. “You’d punish me. You’d make me hurt. But I don’t think you could kill me.”

“Maybe,” Stefan said with a single nod of his head. “But I can make you wish I had.” He pressed in harder against Wesley's body and Stefan’s lips brushed the shell of his ear. “And I promise you, Wesley, if you make me… I will punish you. I will torture and torment everyone you love until there is nothing left. They will suffer and you will watch.”

Something sharp pricked the inner flesh of Wesley's wrist and he winced, both at the pain and the threat. Stefan’s lips brushed his neck and Wesley closed his eyes. There was going to be no escape from this. At least not tonight. Not with his family’s safety under threat. A slender blade pushed between the leather straps binding him and Wesley suddenly found his hands free.

“Turn,” Stefan commanded quietly and Wesley glared balefully at him for a second before doing as he was bid.

He expected the return of the prince’s body against his, but it did not come. Instead, Stefan’s hands gripped the hem of Wesley's thin nightshirt and ripped it up the back until it slipped over his shoulders and down the length of Wesley's arms to hang from his wrists in tatters. 

Stefan’s mouth found his skin then. It pressed wet kisses into his shoulder and neck, while the man’s hands reached around him and undid the laces of Wesley's small clothes. The loose fabric slid down over his hips and dropped, baring him to the room and his prince’s eager gaze.

“So perfect,” Stefan murmured; fingertips tracing light patterns across Wesley's skin. Gooseflesh sprung to life in their wake. “I should keep you like this. Bare. Skin waiting for my touch.”

Wesley closed his eyes and tried to imagine that he was somewhere else. With someone else. A warm, wet tongue licked up the side of his neck though and he opened his eyes again. The sensation had been pleasant. Unwelcome, but pleasant, and the last thing he needed was to lose himself to sensation and forget the nightmare.

Something cold and hard pressed into the apex of his spine. It was small, rounded, just barely kissed his skin as it trailed down the length of his torso. When it hit the cleft of his ass, Wesley tensed. 

“This could have gone differently, Wesley,” Stefan stated. His words sounded almost wistful and it took a second for Wesley to swallow past the thick lump in his throat. “You could have just given in to me. Become mine. You cared for me. I know you did. I felt it every time we were close.”

Wesley shook his head. “I cared for you, Stefan, but it was never what you wished it to be,” he told him. “My feelings for you were only ever born of friendship. You couldn’t accept that though. You needed it to be more. You desired things from me that I simply could not give you.”

A hand clamped onto the curve of Wesley's hip and Wesley tensed as the dagger pushed down between his cheeks and pressed against the entrance of his body.

“Please don’t,” he gasped out; the terror clear in his voice. 

Stefan’s grip eased, but the dagger didn’t withdrawal. 

“Please,” Wesley pleaded again; his head turning to the side just enough to make out his prince’s face over his shoulder.

Stefan sneered at him, his fingers digging in painfully to Wesley's hip, and a spark of panic flared in the knight’s chest before the hilt of the dagger was shoved violently inside of him. 

The pain was blinding. Wesley shrieked at the dry, burning agony of it and tried desperately to push his hips forward and away from it. It clamped his body tighter around the steel though and Wesley sagged against the table, head dropping down far enough that his forehead nearly met the wood.

Stefan twisted the hilt of the blade inside of him, causing his insides to catch and spasm around it. It hurt. Gods it hurt so much and tears pinched out between Wesley's closed eyelids. The dagger pulled out slowly, threatened to pull his insides out along with it, and then stopped only long enough for Wesley to take a breath, then it was savagely shoved back in.

Something tore. Wesley felt it like a blazing agony that ripped up through him and burst out in a tortured wail. He pushed in harder against the table, desperate for escape but finding none. Stefan’s hand drifted up Wesley's spine to rest at the base of his skull and he yanked Wesley back against him. It forced the hilt in deeper and Wesley swore it punctured up through his guts and out the other side.

“Stop!” he screamed, his own hands reaching back to claw at the one clamped around the back of his neck. “Please!”

Stefan didn’t. He rammed the dagger into him until Wesley's vision went dark at the edges and the room began to spin. He wished for the sweet embrace of unconsciousness. Then, at least, Wesley would be spared the indignity and pain. 

He closed his eyes, tried to let the darkness take him, but then Stefan’s thrusts eased. They stopped altogether and Wesley grunted as the hilt was jerked out of him and he was manhandled face down onto the table. The blade clattered to the floor a moment later and Wesley opened his eyes.

Stefan’s hands vanished. All trace of his prince receded save for the soft rustling of fabric and Wes lifted his head to look back over his shoulder. Stefan remained behind him, doublet gone, hands, once again, working open the laces of his trousers. The sight of him, the reality of what was coming, stole Wesley’s breath. He turned his face back to the table and pressed his forehead into the wood.

Something warm and wet was running down his thighs and Wes didn’t have to see it to know that he was bleeding. He could smell the blood in the air; all but taste the tang of it on his tongue. The pain had faded some, shrunken into a manageable, throbbing ache. He’d suffered worse wounds in battle. This ache would fade long before the memory of it did.

When Stefan’s hands slipped in hot along his hips again, Wesley tensed. He felt the press of the other man’s cock and it felt unbelievably larger than it had when he’d taken it into his mouth. Stefan had been big then. Wesley had choked around him and struggled to take the entire length of him. Now though, Wesley had a moment of silent panic that his prince would not fit before the other man pushed inside him. 

It was too much. Stefan was bigger than the dagger. He felt enormous compared to the small, slender hilt and Wesley screamed. His nails dug into the tabletop, scrambling for something, freedom maybe, but found only more pain. Stefan pressed deeper, hips snapping hard into a thrust that buried him fully into Wesley’s already abused body. Wesley tore around him, screamed and jerked and clawed at the table as his body protested the invasion.

The prince groaned behind him, his own hands opening and closing around Wesley’s hips. “Oh how I have wanted this,” he moaned blissfully. “Craved the feel of your body sheathed around mine.”

He pulled out slowly and Wesley hissed as his insides caught and tugged at the retreating member. Stefan didn’t leave him completely, however. He stopped, cockhead still firmly inside him and with another groan thrust back in. 

Wesley grunted again, eyes squeezed shut. He wouldn’t scream again. Stefan could take what he wanted and do what he wished but Wesley would not give the man the satisfaction of hearing him break. 

Tears leaked from his eyes and Wesley pressed his forehead harder against the table. His prince’s thrusts were hard and deep. They forced his own hips and stomach in painfully hard against the table. Wesley held on to that small pain. It gave him an escape. It focused him on one thing instead of the other. Though his reprieve was short-lived. 

Stefan leaned in over him, one hand sliding up into Wesley’s hair so that he could pull the knight’s head up and back. “I will have you, Wesley,” he hissed into his ear. “Your body. Your pain. Your screams.”

Wesley gasped at a sudden sharp thrust and his eyes blinked open. His body had loosened, passage slick from blood and other things he dare not think of. Stefan slowed, fucked into him until Wesley could feel the press of the prince’s hips against his own.

“I will have it all,” Stefan murmured as his hand twisted in Wesley’s hair. “Even your lust.”

The prince’s hips shifted, changing the angle of his penetration and Wesley’s mouth dropped open. The pain was fading, giving way to a burning, aching pleasure that he denied in his heart. He would not give in to this. He would not break. He would not allow this to be anything more than it was; a brutal violation of his body and mind.

“No!” Wesley gasped, but his body betrayed him despite his efforts. His cock filled; slowly at first but the longer Stefan fucked him, the harder he grew. His skin flushed, heat blossoming in his chest and cheeks until Wesley was dizzy from it. Wesley’s body was on fire and before he could stop himself, a moan slipped past his lips.

Stefan chuckled, hand loosening in Wesley’s hair to trail down his spine. He grabbed his hips again, snapped in harder and faster until he was fucking the knight with wild abandon. Wesley’s head dropped forward, mouth open, sobbing even as he felt another flare of arousal lick up the center of his body. One of Stefan’s hands had discovered his erection and was stroking him in time with the prince’s thrusts.

“You see, Wesley,” Stefan groaned and gave a wicked twist of his palm that caused the muscles in Wesley’s stomach to flutter. “You’re mine. Your body accepts it even if you do not.”

“No!” Wesley denied, his head shaking even as he felt his balls swelling with heat and need. He wanted. Sweat clung to his skin. It beaded along his brow and rolled across the smooth line of his back and chest. “No! No. No. No.” 

Each denial grew softer as Stefan’s ministrations intensified. The prince pulled out of him, grabbed him and turned him and backed him towards the bed. 

“Surrender to me,” Stefan bade him as their feet slipped through the blood on the stone. Wesley all but crumpled and only Stefan’s arms around his waist kept him upright and moving.

The back of his knees hit the mattress and Wesley breathed out a soft, “Never,” before the prince pushed him down onto the bed and slid back between his thighs.

This time, when Stefan entered him, Wesley’s body welcomed him and it made Wesley physically ill. His stomach rolled as the prince’s thick cock sank effortlessly into him. It was still too much for him. Too big. Too thick. It stretched his body impossibly wide. Wide enough that Wesley was certain he would rip apart any moment from the sheer force of it. Stefan’s eyes rolled and he hooked Wesley’s legs up over his arms as he pulled out of him, then thrust himself back in.

Wesley’s breath caught as a new sensation punched through him like a lightning strike. His own arousal ignited again and his cock spilled the first droplets of pre-come out across his stomach. Stefan punched into him again, eyes wild with the knowledge that he’d found some magical spot inside of him that lit Wesley’s whole world ablaze.

“Please!” Wesley gasped and tried to pull himself back and away from the man raping him. 

Stefan tightened his grip on the knight’s legs and pistoned his hips faster, filling the room with the sick sounds of slapping flesh and panted breaths.

Wesley moaned, his body going hot and tight as some unnameable need grew inside of him. He’d never felt this before. Never understood the craving for another until now. Until this. And it terrified him.

“Say it,” Stefan panted, hips working so hard and fast that Wesley’s body all but bounced off of his own.

Wesley tried to close his eyes and force the sensations away, but the plunge into darkness only succeeded in magnifying every touch, every thrust, and every new wave of heat that crashed relentlessly down over him. He opened his eyes again and the sight of Stefan lost in his own haze of lust. It left him drowning in shame and self-loathing.

“Say it!” Stefan demanded again, his voice caught somewhere between euphoria and a dangerous growl. The prince’s hips snapped in hard, hit him just right, and Wesley whined as his cock leaked again.

His whole body felt as though it were on the verge of explosion when he screamed, “Say what? What do you want from me?”

Stefan hammered into him again and Wesley’s hands twisted in the king’s duvet. The prince fucked into him over and over and over until his thrusts went erratic and Wesley’s own eyes had begun to roll. He was there, on the cusp of climax and Wesley wished he could die first rather than find his end.

“Say you’re mine!” Stefan snarled and the prince’s body went tight as his orgasm tore through him. He buried himself deep, hips pressing in flush against Wesley’s body, and Wesley bit his lip as hot seed flooded his insides. 

Stefan jerked, humped against him as he rode out his end and Wesley hoped, prayed to all the gods in the heavens that the man would be done with him now. The prince only slumped forward for a moment, however, his chest rising and falling rapidly as his high slowed to a flushed, glowing satisfaction. Stefan gave another soft groan and looked up, his arms releasing their hold on the knight’s legs in favor of reaching for Wesley’s still swollen sex.

“Swear yourself to me and no other,” he demanded as he fisted Wesley’s cock and squeezed.

Wesley shook his head. “No,” he panted, voice thick with emotion.

Stefan’s eyes blazed with fury and he gave Wesley’s cock a sharp, painful twist. “Yes,” he hissed and followed the blinding pain with a soft, just right stroke that made the knight’s eyes roll. 

The prince jerked at his cock, twisted his hand around the base and worked back up until he had the blunt edge of a thumbnail pressing down into Wesley’s weeping slit.

“Say it,” he commanded again, voice like a velvet whisper across Wesley’s heated skin. “Swear everything you are to me and we can rule this world together.”

Tears leaked from the corners of Wesley’s eyes and all he could manage was a choked off sob. He pressed his fist against his mouth, teeth digging into the flesh of his thumb. He would not break. Not now. Not for pleasure or for pain.

Stefan growled again, enraged, and twisted his hand so hard around him that Wesley feared the prince had unmanned him. He wailed the cry of a wounded, dying animal and slipped from the edge of the bed to the cold stone of the floor. The prince was gone from his side in a flash then back again, dagger blade pressed in against the tender flesh of his throat. Wesley felt his skin sting beneath it. He felt the warmth of his blood swell against the steel and watched as Stefan’s eyes blazed a manic blue.

“Kill me,” Wesley whispered, voice pained as he cradled his aching dick in his hands. His body had gone deathly still save for the frantic pounding of his heart.

Stefan pressed harder, turned the lazily swelling cut into a slow oozing wound and Wesley thought for one wild second of thrusting his head forward against the blade. He brought a single hand up, gripped Stefan’s wrist shakily and pulled the blade away.

The madness had faded from Stefan’s eyes, leaving only bitterness in its wake and the sheen of his own unshed tears. They were kneeling in his father’s blood, the world was burning around them, and Wesley knew that nothing had ended. Stefan wouldn’t kill him, but he wasn’t done with him. Not yet. 

The prince stood, righting his trousers as he did, and glared down at Wesley once he was done. “One day, you will offer freely what I ask of you,” he stated and moved far enough away that Wesley felt he could sag against the bed. Stefan stopped at the table, his gaze on the bloody blade of the dagger rather than him. “And until then I am contented with taking it if I must.”

Stefan turned to face him again, but Wesley didn’t have the strength left in him to move from his slumped position on the floor.

“Prepare yourself, my knight,” Stefan bid him and smiled that damningly evil smirk that too often graced his face. “For at sunrise, I claim the throne and with it… this kingdom and you.”

Wesley shuddered and pulled his legs in until he was wrapped up in the tight embrace of his own arms. His cock was still half hard, his skin still burned, and somehow, he thought, he must have displeased the gods. Because he craved touch. He ached for release and that, more than anything else, made him feel guilty and unclean. And this, to his utter horror, was only the beginning.


End file.
